Some wits, too, like oracles, deal in ambiguities, but not with equal success; for though ambiguities are the first excellence of an imposter, they are the last of a wit.

A prince indebted is a fortune made.

The melancholy ghosts of dead renown, Whispering faint echoes of the world's applause.

The blood will follow where the knife is driven, The flesh will quiver where the pincers tear.

By all means use some time to be alone.

O! lost to virtue, lost to manly thought, Lost to the noble sallies of the soul! Who think it solitude to be alone.

Angels are men of a superior kind; Angels are men in lighter habit clad.